


fractal

by falqner



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (kind of), Alternate Universe - Historical, Gen, Historical References, hinata is immortal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:42:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22020484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falqner/pseuds/falqner
Summary: In shelves, between glossy hardcovers and frayed paperbacks, sits a book collecting dust on its spine.Or: In which Hinata is a boy from the past, and Kageyama finds him in the future.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 9
Kudos: 23





	fractal

**Author's Note:**

> My 2019 SS in the Orange Court! Enjoy!

Between volleyball, homework, and friends, there’s simply no time for a teacher to hand out a history project due in a month. It happens anyway.

  
Tobio grumbles as he walks to the library, past sakura trees and fallen branches. There’s nothing in history that he wants to study. Nothing is interesting to him, except volleyball and maybe milk boxes. The thing is, he can’t do a project on the history of volleyball.

  
It's stupid, really. They're nearing the end of the year, and Tobio can see the pile of homework on his desk growing at least two centimeters every day. He already has tutoring lessons with Ennoshita-san on weekends after volleyball practice. There's too much on his plate.

  
"But, you have time now!" Yamaguchi tells him. "Just finish this first and you'll have time later!"

  
Sighing, he pulls out his phone, sets an alarm for a few hours later, and opens the door.

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
_In dear summer, when the wind flows above the river and the waters ripple clear between the banks;_

  
_I will find you, once again._

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
Shelves of history books line the walls of the library, tower over him threateningly. He has a few under his arm about the Edo period, but they’re short and summary filled, without enough information for a project. The student librarian helps. A lot.

  
“Kageyama!” Suga runs up to him with a book in his hands. “This should help you with your project.”

  
“Oh,” Tobio grabs it and holds it under his other arm. “Thank you, Suga-san.”

  
“Of course! I’ll be at the front desk if you need me!”

  
Tobio settles down at a table, opens up a book, and begins taking notes.

  
It’s stupidly time consuming. There’s no point. They’re just notes. Notes and notes and notes, scribbled in his horrid handwriting. It’s probably going to be illegible later on, but that’s a problem for future Tobio.

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
_“Shouyou.”_

  
_“Shouyou??”_

  
_“SHOUYOU!!”_

  
_“Hinata.”_

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
It’s been two hours, and maybe Tobio’s gotten a little work done. It’s not much, but it’s definitely a start. There are sticky notes on each page, tens of words scrawled onto each interesting section. Analysis, quotes for later, new definitions and words to simplify the information, all jotted down. The margins of his notebook is covered with time frames and historical figures, like Sakamoto Ryōma. Ink covers his thumbs and the skin beneath his middle nail.

  
None of it is interesting. None of it captures his attention. It’s boring and pointless; he’s going to play volleyball for most of his life, not sit in an office combing through pages of old textbooks and connect a poem to some obscure thematic message in a war. He’ll grow up, move on from history projects and mathematical equations.

  
But, _well_. He won’t be able to play volleyball if he fails this project. It's stupid, but he wants to get a good grade.

  
He needs to practice that quick with Hinata. 

  
Sighing, he stands up and walks to the shelves to find more books. Maybe fiction will help. "Back to square one," he mumbles bitterly.

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
_So long in winter, your breath may chill,_

_But may your heart stay warm_

_May you bring the color of the flames._

  
_Forth, to the shadows!_

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
Between paperbacks and hardcovers of borderline children's books, a journal with its spine frayed and pages curled stands.

  
_Why would something like this be in the fiction area?_ Tobio thinks.

  
He shrugs and takes it off the shelf, careful to prevent crinkling the paper. It's yellow and dirty, collecting rips and dust in the corners like his house. Haphazardly bound together by worn down string.

  
It's old and dirty, and his mother has always said that old and dirty things can be dangerous. The unknown is dangerous.

  
(Every quick is unknown, dangerous. A whirlwind waiting to happen. To destroy.)

  
Tobio takes the book back to his table, picks up a pen, and begins to read.

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
_Between lines written in black;_

_With white paper and layers of snow_

  
_Know that the shadows will come forth._

  
_And in dear spring,_

  
_You musn't look back._

  
_There are people coming here. A lot of people. They seem to like my parents a lot. My parents do good things, but I'm not sure what they do. They don't tell me._

  
_I tried woodblock printing for the first time. It didn't come out very nice. I think my sister is much better at this. Father is even better!_

  
_It's peaceful here. No one disturbs us. We play with kids and they like it. There's nothing here._

  
_Sometimes, I look up at the sky and see birds. I want to be there with them! They’re big and strong and they can see everything!_

  
_The most I can do is jump really high. Everyone says nice things, but then they also say I won’t be able to do anything with it._

  
_I really want to soar._

  
_~ H.S._

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
“Kageyama!” Suga whispers. “Practice is going to start soon. We should get going. I can help you check out your books!

  
“Oh….,” Tobio places a sticky note as a bookmark. “Thank you, Suga-san!”

  
“Of course!”

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
_Somewhere between the tides of hell,_

  
_They found a great power._

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
“Shouyou, what’s up with you? You’re not jumping high!” Noya is observant to a fault. Tobio glances over, the missed volleyball rolling off the court next to Yamaguchi’s feet.

  
Hinata looks tired.

  
“Oh! A failed run-up, I’ll do better!” Hinata stretches and moves to his new position.

  
He looks strange. There are pale purple shadows under his eyes, stark against the pallor of his skin. His eyelids are drooping and his posture is sagging.

  
He’s exhausted.

  
“Oi,” Tobio calls out, “get ready. We’re doing the quick.”

  
Hinata nods. “Right,” he says solemnly.

  
Hinata misses every single spike.

  
“Oi, dumbass, what’s wrong with you?!”

  
Hinata glances over with a smile that doesn’t burn brighter than the sun. A toothy grin that doesn’t belong. Fake. Plastic. “Nothing, Bakayama! I’m just tired!”

  
Tobio opens his mouth, but Suga steps in. "Kageyama. Just drop it this time."

  
Tobio pinches his lips shut.

  
_What…?_

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
_I’m not sure how, but I’m not home._

  
_I can’t find my sister. I can’t find my parents. I was looking for wood, I think. I was looking for something. I was looking for something and I got lost._

  
_What do I do?_

  
_~H.S._

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
There are sticky notes on his wall, lines and lines of paper about “H.S.”. It doesn’t make sense. Why would this person get lost, but not mention anyone by name?

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
_None of us are dead, but I think the rest of our family is. Our village is. Our home is dead. Our home is dead and there’s nothing I can do._

  
_It’s been years. Years and years and years of who knows what, of stupid fighting and stupid art and stupid this and stupid that. I want to play ball games and jump high again._

  
_Dad says we can’t do that anymore, that now we have to be on the run. People apparently can’t know we’re alive._

  
_I still look the same. I saw myself in the river, and I look the same. It feels like only a few days have passed by, but it’s been years. I didn’t even realize how fast my friends were going._

  
_I hate this. So much._

  
_~H.S._

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
“Hinata! Oi, dumbass!” Tobio snaps his fingers in front of Hinata’s face, watching him slowly doze off during warmups. He shouldn’t be dozing off so much.

  
Hinata’s skin is sickly and pale, like crushed bones or powder, and the shadows under his eyes pop out, ugly and muddy and purple and not at all bright. 

  
“Hey,” he says softer than usual, “have you been getting enough sleep? You need sleep to play.”

  
Hinata turns his head slowly, wobbles a little, and pointedly settles his eyes away from Tobio’s eyes. “No,” he sighs. “I’ll get more sleep tonight. Natsu has been keeping me up. Mom and dad aren’t home until late and she’s getting sick.”

  
Tobio’s posture slackens. “Oh.”

  
It’s the middle of winter.

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
_Please, when winter comes,_

  
_Remember me._

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
It progresses quickly. Hinata doesn’t falter in his step anymore, and the smile on his face becomes wider and more genuine. The trees are close to dead; the leaves are gone; the sun is hiding.

  
Yet, when they leave the gym together, Tobio finds him with windswept hair and crinkled eyes and something soulful. Something straight out of a historical movie, as if Hinata Shouyou doesn’t belong here, doesn’t belong in this time frame. In winter, he’s here and he’s not here, and maybe the world will end one day, but he hopes it doesn’t end during winter.

  
That would be far too tragic.

  
“Kageyama-kun!”

  
“What?”

  
“We’re best friends, right? We’ll be best friends forever! Now you gotta tell me that!”

  
“Oh my god.”

  
_(Of course we’re best friends. You’re the first friend I ever had.)_

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
_I miss you. I miss you like summer misses the sun;_

_And the clouds miss the rain;_

_And spring misses the petals._

  
_Please, come back to me. I miss my old life._

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
Tobio hates it, but making progress on this history project is fun. He knows Hinata isn’t having much success (“That’s what you get for choosing such an annoying time period—I didn’t choose it, it was assigned!”). Or at least, that’s what Hinata says.

  
(He went to Hinata’s house once this week. He saw a map on the wall, with thumbtacks and rope and sepia photos, with water stains or tears that look like burns. It’s not...right. It’s not something Hinata should have.

  
They look far too old to be from any events he said he went to with his family.)

  
When he corners Hinata, asks him to spit something truthful out for once, Suga-san comes around the corner. There’s no fury clear on his face, but rather a mask of quiet hurt, as if to say ‘I thought you wouldn’t do this.’

  
But Hinata shakes his head, grins, and tells Suga-san that it’s okay, everything’s fine, Bakeyama was just asking for help with math!

  
(They’re both shit at math. Their whole team knows this.)

  
_It’s okay, everything’s fine, welcome home, you’re okay._

  
_You’re okay. He’s okay. This is okay._

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
_I wish to escape, to meet new people and become better. I wish to find adventures that don’t bore me anymore, to find something to do that isn’t painful. Hard. It’s annoying—_

  
Another sticky note. He can tell the time is different; the ink is thicker, more saturated. The paper isn’t as dirty; the yellow stains are faint. There are thumbprints and smudges, a lack of care. The binding is falling apart and he has to go to the convenience store to buy more string to tie it together.

  
_It’s annoying. I wanna see my friends again. They always walked around and we climbed trees and stuff._

  
_But, I also like my new life. Sure I work a lot, but dad is next to me and we do this and that and there’s much more to play with. A lot more technology around us. We have nicer clothes. Mom makes them from softer fabric and Natsu likes it._

  
Tobio’s breath hitches. _Natsu….?_

  
No, it’s just a coincidence. A freaky coincidence. Anyone can have the name Natsu.

  
He scribbles it in his notebook, pens the name “Natsu” in uneven strokes. It’s fractal in places he can’t reach, between the lines H.S. imprinted on the page. It juts out like glass, tiny moments of near-insanity.

  
Tobio comes to one conclusion: H.S. is immortal.

  
Timeless. Eternal. Priceless. The list goes on.

  
On his powered down laptop, he adds a pink sticky note and highlights in powder blue: ‘Find out who H.S. is.’

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
Shouyou tacks a piece of paper on his map: ‘Make sure no one finds out.’

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
_She almost died. Natsu almost died._

  
_~H.S._

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
Shouyou walks into the library and heads to the shelves. 

  
It’s not there.

  
It’s gone. Someone checked it out.

  
He tentatively glances over at the front desk. Suga is working there again. “Suga-san…? Where’s the journal?” He raises an eyebrow. “It should still be there."

  
"It's not there!"

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
_In…..s…..m...r……_

  
_c…..a...r_

  
_f...nd_

_….u?_

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
"Kageyama!"

  
It's Suga. Again.

  
"Hm?"

  
"Did you check out a journal? By any chance? From the library?"

  
"Yes, I did!"

  
Suga shifts on his heels, bites his lip, averts his eyes.

  
"Kageyama, I wasn't supposed to check out that book for you. It's not in the catalog."

  
"Wha—"

  
"It's not the library's."

  
I need to know who H.S. is….

  
"Can I return it to you later?"

  
Suga sighs. "Sure," he relents.

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
_I lost my journal once! Someone nearly found out. Mom scolded me._

  
_~H.S._

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
Hinata looks tired.

  
No, Hinata looks exhausted. 

  
"What's up with you?" Tobio walks over to the railing of the roof. Hinata is looking down, down, down. "You're being weird again."

  
A pause, before—

  
"I lost something important to me. It's been with me for a long time. I lost it in school. Maybe someone down there has it."

  
And the grin is gone and something sorrowful is there, back and back again. Fragile, cut deep, worn true and untrue time and time again. There's something there, fractal and broken and old.

  
As if the history before him had molded him.

  
_H.S….. **H.S……**_

  
**_Hinata Shouyou._ **

  
It's the end of winter, but never in summer.

  
⁑⁑⁑

  
_I want to be your friend but my friends are just going to die soon._

  
_Oh well. It's time for fun!_

  
_~H.S._

  
_(I wish I found you in summer, and rays of sunlight shone on your face instead of wind sweeping your hair.)_

  
_(In winter, I found nothing.)_

  
_(Please remember.)_

  
⁑⁑⁑

_**(Always.)** _

⁑⁑⁑

"Wait you told Suga-san and not me?!"

"Idiot, he found out!"

"How did he even find out?"

"Because," Shouyou laughs, "he's smart! Unlike someone!"

"Wha— _hey!"_

⁑⁑⁑

_Honestly, Kageyama-kun, I'm surprised you haven't let it slip! I thought you would be all "WHAM!" and your mouth would be like "PSSSH" like a river! And then everyone would know!_

_Thank you for not telling anyone!_

_(And the new journal!!!!)_

_~ Hinata Shouyou_


End file.
